


Slave for You

by Daegaer



Series: For Art's Sake [5]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: 1920s, AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Artists, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>250 words, inspired by <a href="http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/237687.html">this post</a> of <a href="http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/"><b>indelicateink</b></a>'s, in which she links to some paintings of slave markets in ancient Rome which are educational and show the horror of slavery and are totally not just an excuse to draw naked girls being looked at by lustful men. If Crawford was an artist in the 1920s he would be happily producing just this sort of art of his red-haired model.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Slave for You

**Author's Note:**

> 250 words, inspired by [this post](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/237687.html) of [](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/profile)[**indelicateink**](http://indelicateink.livejournal.com/)'s, in which she links to some paintings of slave markets in ancient Rome which are educational and show the horror of slavery and are totally not just an excuse to draw naked girls being looked at by lustful men. If Crawford was an artist in the 1920s he would be happily producing just this sort of art of his red-haired model.

"Can you look humbled?" I ask, frowning at the sketchbook.

"What?" Schuldig says. "What do you mean, _humbled_?"

I quail inwardly a little at his face. "The buyer wants a picture of a classical slave market," I explain again. "You've been reduced to merchandise, you're embarrassed, ashamed - " My voice dies away as he rolls his eyes.

"Right," he drawls. "I'm what, a proud Germanic warrior shivering and fainting like a fucking girl in front of the big, bad Romans? Like this?" He flings an arm over his eyes, shielding his crotch with his other hand. "Oh, _Julius_ ," he simpers. "Put that nasty thing _away!_ " He lowers his arm and sneers at me. "I don't fucking think so."

I forebear to remind him which of us is the artist. At least some of what he says is a good idea. "Yes, you can be a barbarian warrior, caught on the battlefield," I muse. "What style did the Germanic tribes wear their hair in?"

"How should I know? Make it the fuck up. Do you really think there'll be complaints about your historical fucking accuracy?"

He's right, as usual, but I don't give him the satisfaction of admitting it. "I'll draw you with long hair."

He steps back on the box and assumes a pose of exhausted defiance. _Tame me_ , it says. _If you can_. "Poor barbarian German," he says, "put on show for all the rich men by - " He grins. "- An American."

"Make it a good show," I say.

He does.


End file.
